he said gently. “It’s not the first time you’ve been told someone you care for is dead. It was bound to be a shock.”
That was enough to set me off. I swallowed a couple of times, fighting it, but when he pulled me towards him I barely resisted, allowing him to gather me up and hold me close. Sean was too angular to cuddle up to, but being in his arms made me lightheaded with both tension and relief.
Those clever hands began to smooth up and down my spine, one of his habitual gestures. He traced the indentations of my vertebrae with his fingertips through the thin cotton of my shirt, like he was reading the signs of my body by Braille.
It was supposed to comfort, but it was making me only too aware of the length of time since we’d last done this, and how much I wanted to do it again.
Maybe it was recognition of that need, of the temptation to give in to it that made me stiffen. Footsteps sounded loud in the corridor behind me and poured a further mental bucket of cold water on my thoughts. I pulled back a little so I could see his face.
“When did you get here?” I said, striving for the mundane. “Have they told you anything about how she is?
He smiled as though he knew exactly what had been going through my mind. “I set off early this morning. I only got here about ten minutes ago,” he said. “Clare said there’s been quite a bit of nerve damage in her legs. They’ve been pretty candid with her about the fact that it might or might not all come back. They haven’t told me anything but then,” he added with a wry smile, “bearing in mind who one of her consultants is, I don’t think he’d be inclined to take me into his confidence, do you?”
I frowned. My father and Sean had never been on the best of terms. Not least because the uncovering of our clandestine affair had been part of my abrupt and ignominious exit from the military. I could have pointed out any of this to Sean, but instead I felt the need to defend my father.
“Yesterday they were talking about the possibility of Clare losing her legs,” I said flatly. “Whatever other failings he might have, my father is a bloody good surgeon.”
Sean pulled a face that could have been smile or grimace, take your pick. “I have cause to know that,” he said wryly, rotating his shoulder a fraction, “better than anyone.”
The silence beyond that stretched a moment too long and I rushed to fill it.
“Any news of Jacob?”
“One of the guys you found a number for is based in Wicklow, right down in the southwest corner,” he said, not commenting on my abrupt swerve of subject. “He reckons he’ll probably see Jacob later this week at an auction – if we haven’t managed to get in touch with him before then.”
I nodded, jamming my hands into the pockets of my leather jeans so they wouldn’t be lured into reaching for him again. “How long do you plan to stay?” I asked.
He almost smiled, his body suddenly very still. “As long as you need me.”
Release nearly had my eyes closing. “Thank you,” I said, awkward but sincere. “I really didn’t expect you to drop everything and come rushing up here.” But I wanted you to.
“It’s OK, Charlie,” he said. “It’s not a sign of weakness to need a shoulder to cry on every now and again.”
Sean had been through hell and back more times than I could count. The last time, in the States, he’d come within a whisker of execution and yet he would not – could not – talk about it, let alone cry. I turned and looked at him, dubious.
“Isn’t it?” I said.
Four
When we got back to the ward Jamie had pulled his chair up close to the bedside and was sitting leaning forwards intently and holding Clare’s hand. He jumped up looking flustered when he saw us.
“So who’s the kid?” Sean asked quietly while we were still too far away for him to overhear.
“Jacob’s son,
That was enough to set me off. I swallowed a couple of times, fighting it, but when he pulled me towards him I barely resisted, allowing him to gather me up and hold me close. Sean was too angular to cuddle up to, but being in his arms made me lightheaded with both tension and relief.
Those clever hands began to smooth up and down my spine, one of his habitual gestures. He traced the indentations of my vertebrae with his fingertips through the thin cotton of my shirt, like he was reading the signs of my body by Braille.
It was supposed to comfort, but it was making me only too aware of the length of time since we’d last done this, and how much I wanted to do it again.
Maybe it was recognition of that need, of the temptation to give in to it that made me stiffen. Footsteps sounded loud in the corridor behind me and poured a further mental bucket of cold water on my thoughts. I pulled back a little so I could see his face.
“When did you get here?” I said, striving for the mundane. “Have they told you anything about how she is?
He smiled as though he knew exactly what had been going through my mind. “I set off early this morning. I only got here about ten minutes ago,” he said. “Clare said there’s been quite a bit of nerve damage in her legs. They’ve been pretty candid with her about the fact that it might or might not all come back. They haven’t told me anything but then,” he added with a wry smile, “bearing in mind who one of her consultants is, I don’t think he’d be inclined to take me into his confidence, do you?”
I frowned. My father and Sean had never been on the best of terms. Not least because the uncovering of our clandestine affair had been part of my abrupt and ignominious exit from the military. I could have pointed out any of this to Sean, but instead I felt the need to defend my father.
“Yesterday they were talking about the possibility of Clare losing her legs,” I said flatly. “Whatever other failings he might have, my father is a bloody good surgeon.”
Sean pulled a face that could have been smile or grimace, take your pick. “I have cause to know that,” he said wryly, rotating his shoulder a fraction, “better than anyone.”
The silence beyond that stretched a moment too long and I rushed to fill it.
“Any news of Jacob?”
“One of the guys you found a number for is based in Wicklow, right down in the southwest corner,” he said, not commenting on my abrupt swerve of subject. “He reckons he’ll probably see Jacob later this week at an auction – if we haven’t managed to get in touch with him before then.”
I nodded, jamming my hands into the pockets of my leather jeans so they wouldn’t be lured into reaching for him again. “How long do you plan to stay?” I asked.
He almost smiled, his body suddenly very still. “As long as you need me.”
Release nearly had my eyes closing. “Thank you,” I said, awkward but sincere. “I really didn’t expect you to drop everything and come rushing up here.” But I wanted you to.
“It’s OK, Charlie,” he said. “It’s not a sign of weakness to need a shoulder to cry on every now and again.”
Sean had been through hell and back more times than I could count. The last time, in the States, he’d come within a whisker of execution and yet he would not – could not – talk about it, let alone cry. I turned and looked at him, dubious.
“Isn’t it?” I said.
Four
When we got back to the ward Jamie had pulled his chair up close to the bedside and was sitting leaning forwards intently and holding Clare’s hand. He jumped up looking flustered when he saw us.
“So who’s the kid?” Sean asked quietly while we were still too far away for him to overhear.
“Jacob’s son,
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